


Foot Fights

by asimpleword



Series: Septiplier Drabbles [12]
Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Septiplier - Freeform, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-06-16
Packaged: 2018-04-04 17:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4145856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asimpleword/pseuds/asimpleword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack loses at a game against Mark, and  a foot fight is promptly started between the two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Foot Fights

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this short thing w/e. This was a p cute prompt and I hope I at least did it some justice.

“Now you’re suckin’ diesel!” Jack shouts as he finally kills Mark, throwing his arms up in victory.

“Don’t get too excited.” Mark snorts, doesn’t bother looking away from the TV.

“Screw you, ye bastard.” Jack pouts when he dies. “You distracted me. Stop that.”

“Not if it helps me win.”

Jack sticks his tongue out at Mark, shifting on the couch, legs carefully intertwined with Mark’s, who was on the other end.

“You’re shittin’ me.” His voice is flat, face blank as he dies, again. Mark just snickers in response.

“Told you not to get excited.”

“You jinxed me you paddy bastard.”

“I can’t hear you!” Mark sings as he kills Jack once more, officially winning the round.

“Fuckin’ fight me,” Jack spits, and kicks his leg out at Mark.

“Is that how it’s gonna be?”

Mark looks at him with eyebrows raised, expression challenging. He kicks back just as hard, and Jack narrows his eyes. Mark has officially started a foot fight.

“Do you realize what you’ve started?” He asks.

“A foot fight?” Mark questions.

“Sure as hell a foot fight. I’m winnin’ this time whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not sure you can-” A foot comes into contact with his side and he flinches away, kicking blindly with a burst of laughter.

“Oh I fuckin’ can!”

They both kick randomly, though not hard. They weren’t going to risk hurting each other. Jack gets him in the armpit, and he throws his head back and laughs. He gets him back by digging his toes into Jack’s ribs. Their legs tangle, and it’s nearly impossible to tell where one leg starts and the other ends. All the while yelling playful insults.

Somehow, they both end up sliding off the couch and onto the floor, wrestling halfheartedly; both taking care not to hurt the other.

Jack straddles an out of breath Mark, hands caging him to the floor on either side. They’re both breathing hard, eyes locked and shit eating grins on their faces. Mark stretches one leg out, hands resting on Jack’s thighs.

Slowly, Jack leans down, and their eyes close on instinct. It’s not much, a simple, small kiss, but it leaves Mark reeling. Jack pulls away, forehead pressed to Mark’s. He brings a hand to run through Mark’s hair, curving around to hold his cheek. Their hearts are pounding, mouths open to catch their breath.

“Told you I would win.” He chuckles, and Mark rolls his eyes.

“If it makes you happy.” He sighs in content.

“Very much so.”

They both can’t hide their smiles this time.


End file.
